The Eagle of the Empire: A Story of Waterloo by Cyrus Townsend Brady (best e reader for academics txt) 📕

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THE EAGLE OF THE EMPIRE A STORY OF WATERLOO
By CYRUS TOWNSEND BRADY

AUTHOR OF

"The Island of Regeneration," "The Island of the Stairs,"
"Britton of the Seventh," Etc.


With Frontispiece
By THE KINNEYS

A. L. BURT COMPANY
Publishers
New York
Published by Arrangements with GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY


Copyright, 1915,
By GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY


DEDICATION

Dedications have gone out of vogue save with the old fashioned. The ancient idea of an appeal to a patron has been eliminated from modern literature. If a man now inscribes a book to any one it is that he may associate with his work the names of friends he loves and delights to honor. There is always a certain amount of assurance in any such dedication, the assurance lying in the assumption that there is honor to the recipient in the association with the book. Well, there is no mistaking the purpose anyway.

One of my best friends, and that friendship has been proved in war and peace, at home and abroad, is a Bank! The Bank is like Mercy in more ways than one, but particularly in that it is twice blessed; it is blessed in what it receives, I hope, and in what it gives, I know. From the standpoint of the depositor sometimes it is better to receive than to give. It has been so in my case and I have been able to persuade the Bank to that way of thinking.

Therefore, in grateful acknowledgment of the very present help it has been to me in time of need and in public recognition of many courtesies from its officers and directors, and as some evidence of my deep appreciation of its many kindnesses to me, I dedicate this book to

THE MOUNT VERNON TRUST COMPANY
of
MOUNT VERNON, NEW YORK


PREFACE

The Battle of Waterloo, which was fought just one hundred years ago and with which the story in this book ends, is popularly regarded as one of the decisive battles of the world, particularly with reference to the career of the greatest of all Captains. Personally some study has led me to believe that Bautzen was really the decisive battle of the Napoleonic wars. If the Emperor had there won the overwhelming victory to which his combinations and the fortunes of war entitled him he would still have retained his Empire. Whether he would have been satisfied or not is another question; and anyway as I am practically alone among students and critics in my opinions about Bautzen they can be dismissed. And that he lost that battle was his own fault anyway!

However Napoleon's genius cannot be denied any more than his failure. In this book I have sought to show him at his best and also almost at his worst. For sheer brilliance, military and mental, the campaigning in France in 1814 could not be surpassed. He is there with his raw recruits, his beardless boys, his old guard, his tactical and strategical ability, his furious energy, his headlong celerity and his marvelous power of inspiration; just as he was in Italy when he revolutionized the art of war and electrified the world. Many of these qualities are in evidence in the days before Waterloo, but during the actual battle upon which his fate and the fate of the world turned, the tired, broken, ill man is drowsily nodding before a farmhouse by the road, while Ney, whose superb and headlong courage was not accompanied by any corresponding military ability, wrecks the last grand army.

And there is no more dramatic an incident in all history, I believe, than Napoleon's advance on the Fifth-of-the-line drawn up on the Grenoble Road on the return from Elba.

Nor do the Roman Eagles themselves seem to have made such romantic appeal or to have won such undying devotion as the Eagles of the Empire.

This story was written just before the outbreak of the present European war and is published while it is in full course. Modern commanders wield forces beside which even the great Army of the Nations that invaded Russia is scarcely more than a detachment, and battles last for days, weeks, even months—Waterloo was decided in an afternoon!—yet war is the same. If there be any difference it simply grows more horrible. The old principles, however, are unchanged, and over the fields upon which Napoleon marched and fought, armies are marching and fighting in practically the same way to-day. And great Captains are still studying Frederick, Wellington and Bonaparte as they have ever done.

The author modestly hopes that this book may not only entertain by the love story, the tragic yet happily ended romance within its pages—for there is romance here aside from the great Captain and his exploits—but that in a small way it may serve to set forth not so much the brilliance and splendor and glory of war as the horror of it.

We are frightfully fascinated by war, even the most peaceable and peace-loving of us. May this story help to convey to the reader some of the other side of it; the hunger, the cold, the weariness, the suffering, the disaster, the despair of the soldier; as well as the love and the joy and the final happiness of the beautiful Laure and the brave Marteau to say nothing of redoubtable old Bal-Arr�t, the Bullet-Stopper—whose fates were determined on the battlefield amid the clash of arms.

CYRUS TOWNSEND BRADY.

THE HEMLOCKS,
EDGECLIFF TERRACE, PARK-HILL-ON-HUDSON.
YONKERS, N. Y.

EPIPHANY-TIDE, 1915.

CONTENTS
  PROLOGUE       VIVE L'EMPEREUR

  BOOK I: THE EMPEROR AT BAY

CHAPTER   I.   BEARERS OF EVIL TIDINGS II.   THE EMPEROR DREAMS III.   THE ARMY MARCHES AWAY IV.   MARTEAU AND BAL-ARR�T RIDE V.   WHEN THE COSSACKS PASSED VI.   MARTEAU BARGAINS FOR THE WOMAN VII.   A RESCUE AND A SIEGE VIII.   A TRIAL OR ALLEGIANCE IX.   THE EMPEROR EATS AND RIDES X.   HOW MARTEAU WON THE CROSS XI.   AN EMPEROR AND A GENTLEMAN XII.   AN ALLIANCE DECLINED XIII.   THE THUNDERBOLT STROKE XIV.   THE HAMMER OF THE WAR GOD  

BOOK II: THE EAGLE'S FLIGHT

XV.   THE BRIDGE AT ARCIS XVI.   THE GATE IN THE WALL XVII.   A VETERAN OF THE ARMY OF ITALY XVIII.   ALMOST A GENTLEMAN XIX.   THE GREAT HONOR ROLL XX.   WHEN THE VIOLETS BLOOM AGAIN XXI.   LIKE A THIEF IN THE NIGHT XXII.   IN THE COUNTESS LAURE'S BED-CHAMBER XXIII.   THE MARQUIS GRANTS AN INTERVIEW XXIV.   ON THE WHOLE DEATH MAY BE BETTER THAN LIFE XXV.   NOT EVEN LOVE CAN FIND A WAY XXVI.   THEY MEET A LION IN THE WAY XXVII.   COMRADE! GENERAL! EMPEROR!  

BOOK III: THE LAST TRY

XXVIII.   AT THE STAMP OF THE EMPEROR'S FOOT XXIX.   WATERLOO—THE FINAL REVIEW XXX.   WATERLOO—THE CHARGE OF D'ERLON XXXI.   WATERLOO—THE LAST OF THE GUARD XXXII.   AT LAST THE EAGLE AND THE WOMAN


PROLOGUE

VIVE L'EMPEREUR

The weatherworn Ch�teau d'Aumenier stands in the midst of a noble park of trees forming part of an extensive domain not far to the northwest of the little town of S�zanne, in the once famous county of Champagne, in France. The principal room of the castle is a great hall in the oldest part of the venerable pile which dates back for eight hundred years, or to the tenth century and the times of the famous Count Eudes himself, for whom it was held by one of his greatest vassals.

The vast apartment is filled with rare and interesting mementos of its distinguished owners, including spoils of war and trophies of the chase, acquired in one way or another in the long course of their history, and bespeaking the courage, the power, the ruthlessness, and, sometimes, the unscrupulousness of the hard-hearted, heavy-handed line. Every country in Europe and every age, apparently, has been levied upon to adorn this great hall, with its long mullioned windows, its enormous fireplace, its huge carved stone mantel, its dark oak paneled walls and beamed ceiling. But, the most interesting, the most precious of all the wonderful things therein has a place of honor to itself at the end farthest from the main entrance.

Fixed against this wall is a broken staff, or pole, surmounted by a small metallic figure. The staff is fastened to the wall by clamps of tempered steel which are further secured by delicate locks of skillful and intricate workmanship. The pole is topped by the gilded effigy of an eagle.

In dimensions the eagle is eight inches high, from head to feet, and nine and a half inches wide, from wing tip to wing tip. Heraldically, "Un Aigle �ploy�" it would be called. That is, an eagle in the act of taking flight—in the vernacular, a "spread eagle." The eagle looks to the left, with its wings half expanded. In its talons it grasps a thunderbolt, as in the old Roman standard. Those who have ever wandered into the Monastery of the Certosa, at Milan, have seen just such an eagle on one of the tombs of the great Visconti family. For, in truth, this emblem has been modeled after that one.

Below the thunderbolt is a tablet of brass, three inches square, on which is a raised number. In this instance, the number is five. The copper of which the eagle is molded was originally gilded, but in its present battered condition much of the gilt has been worn off, or shot off, and the original material is plainly discernible. If it could be lifted its weight would be found to be about three and a half pounds.

Around the neck of the eagle hangs a wreath of pure gold. There is an inscription on the back of it, which says that the wreath was presented to the regiment by the loyal city of Paris after the wonderful Ulm campaign.

One of the claws of the eagle has been shot away. The gold laurel wreath has also been struck by a bullet, and some of its leaves are gone. The tip of one wing is missing. The head of the eagle, originally proudly and defiantly erect, has been bent backward so that, instead of a level glance, it looks upward, and there is a deep dent in it, as from a blow. And right in the breast gapes a great ragged shot-hole, which pierces the heart of the proud emblem. The eagle has seen service. It has been in action. It bears its honorable wounds. No attempt has been made to repair it.

The staff on which the eagle stands has been broken at about half its length, presumably by a bullet. The shattered, splintered end indicates that the staff is made of oak. It had been painted blue originally. The freshness of the paint has been marred. On one side, a huge slice has been cut out of it as if by a mighty sword stroke. The tough wood is gashed and scarred in various places, and there is a long, dark blur just above the broken part, which looks as if it might be a blood stain.

Below the eagle, and attached to the remainder of the staff for about three-fourths of its length, is what remains of a battle flag. The material of it was originally rich and heavy crimson silk, bordered with gold fringe. It is faded, tattered, shot-torn, bullet-ridden, wind-whipped; parts of it have disappeared. It has been carefully mounted, and is stretched out so as to present its face to the beholder. In dull, defaced letters of gold may be read inscriptions—the imagination piecing out the missing parts. Here is a line that runs as follows:

Napoleon, Empereur des Fran�ais, au 5e Infanterie
de la Ligne.

And underneath, in smaller and brighter letters, as if a later addition: